


the city's blind spot

by QueenWithABeeThrone



Category: Daredevil (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Mentors, Rescue, i trusted you soule why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 01:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5356274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This is how Samuel Chung meets Daredevil, also known as Matt Murdock.</i>
</p><p>or: Matt rescues a would-be vigilante and accidentally gets an apprentice in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the city's blind spot

**Author's Note:**

> I think we can all agree that the shitshow that was Daredevil #1 should not have happened, right? good. but oh my god I really liked Sam _a lot_. so this is a fic where he and Matt meet in a 'verse where no one is broken up and everyone is okay.

When asked, Matt’s not quite sure when, exactly, did Sam become part of his family--that little cobbled-together group of people he knows, in his heart, he’ll do everything for to keep safe. Kirsten likes to say it was around the time they got Sam his green card, and Foggy tells everyone that he knew the guy was family by the tenth time Sam crashed on his couch and bled into the soft cushions, much to his distress.

But Matt does remember when Sam first somehow found his way into his life.

–

It’s been--A Day. Then again, his father’s birthday is usually _A Day_ , and so Matt takes some time off and leaves the firm in Kirsten’s capable hands for the day to travel back to New York, just to talk to his dad. Just to let him know how things are going.

And, all right, maybe he misses New York a little. That’s the thing about the city, once she’s got her claws in you, you can never quite leave it for good, even when you do.

“Hey, Daredevil,” says Stu, utterly smug--he can _hear_ the smug smile the guy’s wearing in that tone, Stu's been smug ever since Matt said _I am Daredevil_ to a courtroom full of people--when Matt walks up to his little coffee cart, “you moving back here for good?”

“Nah, just visiting,” says Matt, and pays up about ten dollars for a twenty-dollar cup of coffee--perks of the job, and all that. “So I heard the world nearly ended while I was away.”

“Don’t kid about that, Daredevil,” Stu huffs, and that’s about the extent of their interaction. There’s more on Matt’s mind, right now, for him to keep up the small talk, so he walks away with a cup of coffee and a head full of churning thoughts.

–

Visiting his father’s grave is always a brief affair--Matt spends enough time there to just talk, maybe stand in silence for a few minutes and breathe in the air, but beyond that he doesn’t stay for much longer. Especially these days, people will whip out their cameras anywhere, and Matt’s not looking forward to snapping at some poor kid for wanting a selfie with Daredevil.

He walks out the graveyard, tapping all the way--sure, technically he can navigate just fine, he doesn’t _need_ the cane as much as a regular blind person does, but it’s like he told Ikari: old habits die hard. And this is one of the oldest he has.

Then he hears a yell.

Apparently, New York never changes, so Matt abandons all pretense and runs down an alleyway, flinging his cane into a dumpster as he does so.

He’ll buy another one later.

–

This is how Samuel Chung meets Daredevil, also known as Matt Murdock:

 _I should really get armor_ , Sam thinks, absently, in some distant part of his mind not currently concerned with, you know, trying to survive the fight he’s somehow gotten into with five ( _five!_ stupid stupid _stupid_ ) gang members, in an alleyway in Chinatown. _And maybe a mentor._

But then again, it isn’t like superheroes have a mentorship program. Which Sam thinks is just terrible, with all the teenaged vigilantes around, there should really be a mentorship program for vigilantes. Though he figures there are _some_ people who'd frown on that little concept.

He ducks a thrown punch, elbows the guy in the stomach. The gun drops from the guy’s hand, and he’s back in motion, rising up to slam a fist into the back of the guy’s neck. Guy lets out a scream and goes down for the count--that’s one down, four to go.

“ _Fire_ , goddammit!” one yells.

“But we can’t fucking _see_ him!” another shouts.

“So fucking fire wherever, asshole!”

_Wow, that’s not going to end in lots of collateral damage._

And then Sam can’t really think more because he has to dodge bullets, and see--this is why there needs to be a mentorship program for superheroes. How the fuck does Daredevil dodge _bullets_ , for example, because they are exceedingly hard to dodge, and one manages to get Sam in the leg.

“ _Shit_ ,” Sam hisses out, only remembering to be quiet once the word's out.

“ _I think I got him!_ ” yells the fourth, a guy with nappy hair clearly giddy at the thought of getting an invisible man. “I think I--”

He gets cut off by an escrima stick to the face, and Daredevil–-fucking goddamn fucking _Daredevil_ , isn't he supposed to be in _San Francisco_ –-backflips off the fire escape and lands in front of Sam.

 _Oh my god_ , thinks Sam, a little dazed. _That’s Daredevil._

–

Matt takes care of the gang members in no time flat.

“Okay, kid,” says Matt, afterwards, as stern as he can, to the kid who was fighting them earlier--there’s a buzz coming from him that sounds like batteries, and the smell and taste of copper lingering in the air, “don’t even _think_ about moving.”

“I’m not a _kid_ –-” the kid protests weakly, where he’s slumped near a dumpster.

“Shhh.” Matt bends down, digs into one of the pockets of the utility belt Foggy had insisted he use and finds bandages there, a splint, things to keep the kid from bleeding out in a dirty Chinatown alleyway. “You sound like one. Now hold still.”

“How can you even tell it’s there?” the kid asks, as Matt feels along his leg, prodding along for a reaction. Then he lets out a hiss.

“I don’t, you just told me,” says Matt, and he can't resist letting a little smugness seep into his tone before he switches back to a more serious one: “I’ll get this bound up, and then we’re bringing you to the hospital.”

The kid makes a strangled noise, then says, weakly, “No–-No hospitals. _Please_.”

“Look,” says Matt, a little impatient now, “you have a _gunshot wound_. You have to go to a hospital, I can’t exactly dig one out here, you’ll run the risk of getting infected–-”

The kid’s heartbeat skyrockets, and he grabs hold of Matt's hand-- _wow_ , kid can hold on pretty tightly, for someone who's got a bullet in his leg and is bleeding in a dirty alley. “I _can’t_!” he half-shouts. “They might-–I’m not legal, they’ll _know_ -–”

_Oh._

“They won’t,” Matt promises. “I’ll take you to a place I know, the nurses there don’t ask questions. Just-–hold on to me.”

And the kid does, wraps his arms around Matt's shoulders and lets out a hiss as Matt snakes an arm under his knees and uses the other to support his back.

“What’s your name?” Matt asks, lifting him up in a fireman carry, careful not to jostle the leg.

“Sam,” the kid says, and oh, boy. The kid’s so new at this he doesn’t even know the first rule of vigilantism–- _never tell anybody your real name_. Granted, Matt’s broken that rule himself, but. Still. “Samuel Chung.”

“Matt Murdock,” says Matt. "Though you knew that already."

–

The nurse on duty at the clinic does not ask Matt what he’s doing back in New York, or why he’s carrying in a kid whose invisibility suit ran out of batteries about fifteen minutes ago. What she asks are the usual questions, the ones most nurses ask to try and get a grasp of what they’ll have to do to keep their patient from dying. He appreciates that.

Matt waits an hour or so, sitting outside on a bench fiddling with his thumbs. He regrets throwing his cane away–-in retrospect, that was a bad idea. He can almost hear Kirsten sighing deeply in his head, telling him that just because he has a _lot_ of money now, it doesn't mean he can just throw his canes away whenever he likes.

The nurse comes out of the room, and says, “He’ll live. Partly thanks to you, though we’re lucky the bullet didn’t hit any major arteries.”

“I figured,” says Matt.

“I’m not even gonna ask how you knew,” says the nurse, after a moment’s pause. “Good to see you back in NYC, Daredevil.”

“It’s temporary, I just–-had some business here,” says Matt. It’s true, to a certain extent.

“All right,” says the nurse, and lets it drop. She heads back inside, and Matt fishes his phone and headphones out from one of the pockets of the utility belt, peels a glove off so he can text Foggy: _hey, how are things?_

 _Fine_ , is Foggy’s answer. _Kirsten kicked ass in court today, btw, it was great, O’Brien looked even more constipated than usual. How’s NYC?_

 _Still the same,_ Matt writes back. He pauses, then writes, _Remind me again, how does an illegal immigrant get a green card?_

 _What’s this for?_ is Foggy’s answer. _Did you get us a client who needs a green card? I could ask around, probably._

 _Someone I met,_ Matt texts. _Good kid, you’ll like him. He kind of got shot, but he’s fine, I took him to the Night Nurse clinic. But I can’t be here forever._

 _Ok, buddy,_ reads Foggy’s response, _I’ll look into it. You take care, okay?_

Matt lets out a breath of relief, texts _thanks, you too_ back, then raises his head up from his phone to find the nurse from before leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. “Can I help you?” he asks.

“He wants to see you,” says the nurse. “Said something about wanting you to mentor him.”

Matt says, “Wait. What?”

–

fin.


End file.
